


Gido's Surf 'N Stay

by Pares (kormantic)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Cheap Motels, IM Conversations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-29
Updated: 2007-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kormantic/pseuds/Pares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair Sandburg, fleabag motel, laptop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gido's Surf 'N Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tommyboybbi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tommyboybbi).



Gido's Surf 'N Stay was typical of the little dive motels that speckled the coastline near Seaside, right down to its Pepto pink clapboards. Given that it was January and it was snowing at the moment, Blair didn't think there were too many surfers actually lodging there. He'd taken the key from the little East Indian lady at the desk and lugged his backpack and his laptop case to #12.

The paint was shabby and the corners of the ceiling were dark with water stains. Blair shuddered a little and tugged the garish red and green paisley bedspread off the mattress and draped it over one of the frayed wicker backed chairs on hand. The latch hook rug hung over the bed in lieu of the standard pastel beach scenes or 80s abstracts depicted a pair of jaundice-eyed Pandas listlessly chewing bamboo yarn.

He took a quick shower and rummaged through his backpack for a granola bar and a bottled water. Flopping on the bed, he reached for his laptop and booted it up.

The desk lady had promised him internet access, and Blair was pleasantly surprised when his modem cable actually allowed him to log in and check his mail at the station. No updates on his assignment, anyway. He checked his watch; after ten already, and he was supposed to meet Ryersaal at the marina at 5:30 AM.

He did some reading and was about to shut down when Jim pinged him in IM. Shaking his head a little, Blair smiled to think that although Jim was sort of a superhero, the most surreal thing about him to Blair's mind was that he had a BlackBerry and an AIM handle.

> ellis0n: How's the room?
> 
> ofthefield: it's not the ritz, but it's still nicer than my old warehouse space.
> 
> ellis0n: What are you doing up so late? Don't you have a meet in the morning?
> 
> ofthefield: pot, kettle. you're the one who's supposed to be backing me up tomorrow. besides, are reputed stoners known for their excessive punctuality where you come from?
> 
> ellis0n: You're not so great at this under cover stuff.
> 
> ofthefield: and you SUCK at pep talks. I'll be fine.
> 
> ellis0n: Try not to get shot this time.
> 
> ofthefield: they're fisherman. I'll keep an eye out for nets and the gaff, though, I promise.
> 
> ellis0n: This is stupid.
> 
> ofthefield: trust me, you'd hate this place. the mildew alone would make you nuts. besides, you hate the way motel beds smell.

There was no reply and Blair figured Jim had lost whatever tenuous signal he'd managed to find in this dead-end town, until there was a knock at the door.

He was unsurprised to see Jim on the other side of the door, his broad shoulders dusted with snow.

"The bed will smell like _you_ ," Jim pointed out, crowding into the room and already shucking his sweater.

Blair laughed.


End file.
